Fight Hard
by IMTheresa
Summary: Dean would do anything for Sam. But if Sam turns evil, can Dean kill him?
1. Chapter 1

**Fight Hard**

Chapter 1

oooOOOooo

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just like to bring them to my sandbox once in a while.

oooOOOooo

In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair - **Auguste Napier**

oooOOooo

Sam Winchester sat across from his brother at a table in the crowded bar just like he'd done countless times before. Normaly Dean would be flirting with the waitresses or scoping out the competition for a game of pool or darts. Sam would either be reading their father's journal, a newspaper, or surfing the 'Net on his laptop. He wasn't really into the bar scene, but it's where Dean liked to unwind after a hunt or a long day on the road.

But things weren't like they used to be. Their father was dead and the Colt was gone. They had no idea how to kill the demon, even if they could find it. They were depending on the help of strangers; one in particular was someone that John knew but never told them about. They found out that there was an entire network of hunters they knew nothing of, and just when they were getting to the point of trusting some, they found out they might not be able to. If their lives weren't weird enough before, things really made up for it now.

"You're hitting it pretty hard tonight." Dean noted as Sam ordered another beer. Normally one was his limit, but he'd already had three.

Sam said nothing.

"Sammy." Dean hesitated when Sam didn't even look up, then leaned forward. "Sam."

Sam looked at him, but Dean didn't recognize what he saw in his brother's eyes. He still said nothing. Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair. The waitress set another glass in front of Sam and he wrapped his hands around it.

"Dean." he said after a moment. "You'll do it, won't you?"

"Do what?"

"Kill me." Sam said. "If I turn evil."

Dean felt sick. He grabbed his beer and took a long swig.

"Dean."

"I don't want to have this conversation." Dean said after a moment. "You're not going to turn evil."

"You don't know that." Sam smiled sadly.

"The hell I don't."

"Dean, please. I have to know that I can count on you."

Sam knew this was hard for his brother. Dean had been charged with protecting Sam his entire life only to find out he may have to kill him instead. Sam understood how that must feel, but had to know that Dean could do what might become necessary. He watched as Dean trained his eyes everywhere but on him.

"Dean."

"I'm gonna hit the head." Dean said and stood up.

Sam took a long drink of his beer, watching as Dean walked away.

Dean made sure the bathroom was empty. He leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror, then slammed his fist into the wall.

"Damnit." he growled, shaking his hand. "Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!"

He turned over the trash can, kicked the stall doors, and hit the wall again. He was back at the sink when Sam walked in.

"Get out." Dean hissed, glaring at him.

Sam took a step forward.

"Get the hell out, Sammy. If you're going to try to make me talk about killing you, you can just get the hell away from me."

"I'm not gonna make you talk." Sam said quietly. He'd spent some time being angry with his brother for keeping the secret, but it didn't take long for him to realize it wasn't Dean's fault. John told him not to tell Sam, so he didn't. At least he didn't until it was too much for him to handle.

Dean stood up straight.

"Come on, man." Sam said. "Let's go back to the motel."

"I'm not going to talk about it at the motel either."

"I said I wouldn't make you talk."

Dean looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the sink to wash the blood from his hand. It was already starting to bruise. He leaned against the sink and closed his eyes.

"I can't do this, Sammy."

"Which _this_ are we talking about?"

"Everything. All of it."

"You really want to do this here, man?"

"I don't care." Dean whispered. "I just don't care anymore."

Sam stepped forward and pulled Dean away from the sink. "Come on, let's go."

To his surprise, Dean let himself be led out of the bar and to the parking lot. Sam knew he probably shouldn't be driving, but he figured he was in slightly better shape than his brother right now. He was glad the motel was only a couple of miles away, though, and they made it without incident.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, looking sullen while Sam filled the ice bucket and got two sodas from the machine at the end of the building. He wrapped some of the ice in a towel and handed it to Dean as he sat next to him. The older brother put the ice on his injured hand without comment. They sat that way, neither one speaking, for a long time. Sam knew he could probably get Dean to talk if he pushed hard enough, but he knew when not to force him and this was one of those times.

He thought back to when Dean told him the secret. It wasn't that long ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. They left the deserted Oregon town where they learned that Sam was immune to some kind of demonic virus and stopped at a lake. That in itself was odd; Dean wasn't normally a stop and see the scenery kind of guy and the unwritten rule was to put as much distance between them and the job as possible when it was done.

He sat on the simple wooden fence, while his brother leaned against it looking out at the water. Sam was worried about him. Before they knew Sam was immune to the disease, Dean sent the others away and stayed with him. At the time, they believed they were both going to die; Sam begged him to save himself, but Dean wouldn't go and admitted he was tired of the hunting lifestyle. Sam never thought he'd hear those words from his brother's mouth. He always thought Dean was the perfect hunter and lived for the job, but he'd been so different since their father died. Sam attributed the changes to missing John and, while that was part of the truth, the rest of it was beyond staggering.

_Before Dad died he, he told me something. Something about you._

_What? Dean, what did he tell you?_

_He said that he wanted me to watch out for you. Take care of you._

_He told you that a million times._

_This time was different. He said that I had to… save you._

_Save me from what?_

_He just said that I had to save you. That nothing else mattered. And that if I couldn't. I'd –_

_You'd what, Dean?_

_I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy._

Sam replayed that part of the conversation in his head a million times. His brother might have to kill him. Dean might have to kill him and had kept it a secret from him for months. And it was a secret John had kept for who knew how long?

_You had no right to keep this from me._

_You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day._

_We just have to figure out what's going on, then. What this all means._

_We do? I've been thinking about this. I think we should just lay low, you know? At least for a while. Be safer. Then that way I could make sure – _

_What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?_

_I never said that._

_Geez, you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean._

_I never said that! Damni Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control. All right, you're – you're immune to some weirdo demon virus and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me. That's fine. I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?_

_Forget it._

_Sam, please, man. Hey, please. Just give me some time. Just give me some time to think, I'm begging you here, please. Please. _

Dean Winchester didn't hide and Dean Winchester didn't beg. But that's exactly what he'd done standing next to that lake. Sam had vacillated between anger and concern for his brother, but in the end, anger won out. For a little while, at least.

And now he sat next to his brother in some dingy motel room with the only light coming from the bathroom. Dean was cradling his hand, holding a towel filled with ice against it, his head down and looking totally defeated. He wasn't used to losing a fight; he always got the bad guy he was up against. But what if the bad guy turned out to be Sam? Would Dean have the courage he'd need to go up against his own brother?

"I'm scared."

Sam looked at his brother, not even sure he'd really spoken. The ice had started to melt and cold water was rolling down Dean's fingers onto the floor, but he didn't notice.

"I'm scared, Sammy."

"I'm scared, too, Dean."

"I don't want to have to kill you."

"But you'll do it if you have to, right?" it sounded more like a plea than a question.

"Sam." Dean whispered.

The younger brother knew not to push. Dean was closer to a breaking point than he'd ever seen him, so he only nodded to himself and reached for the towel.

Dean lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling. He knew he couldn't keep going like this; he had to keep it together for Sam's sake. He could hear Sam's even breathing in the next bed and knew he'd finally fallen asleep. He couldn't even imagine what the kid must be going through; he'd always felt different and now to find out that he may very well be, that he might somehow turn evil, had to be devastating. And Dean was being absolutely no help by wallowing in his own self-pity. No matter what, he had to take care of Sammy. That had always been his number one job.

Watching Sam as he moved, Dean got out of bed and pulled on the jeans he'd discarded on the floor earlier. Moving in true hunter mode, Dean put on his shoes and slipped into his jacket before going outside. He could see the Impala across the parking lot through the fog and once inside, he turned on the radio. He leaned back in the seat, listening to classic rock, and trying to figure out what to do about Sam. It had been several weeks since he'd shared John's secret and, so far, his brother was the same as he'd always been. There was no sign that he would – or even could – become evil.

"God, I wish you were still here, Dad." he said. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm fighting. And I'm so tired."

He closed his eyes. He wasn't just physically tired, he was mentally tired. For so long it had just been the Winchesters; they fought everything together. When John died, Dean felt lost. He didn't want to let anyone else in and despite what John told him, he wanted to cling to his brother. Then they met Ellen Harvelle, an old friend of their father's. He didn't immediately trust her, but Sam did and he trusted Sam. But someone at the Harvelle Roadhouse had fed Gordon information about his brother and Dean didn't know who was safe anymore. Again, it was just the Winchesters.

"I don't know how to take care of Sammy, Dad. I don't know how to do this without you."

He took a deep breath and looked back toward the motel room. It didn't matter if he knew how to do it or not; he _had_ to do it. It was his job to take care of Sammy and he never turned his back on a job; or on his family.

oooOOOooo

The next morning, the brothers headed to a nearby town to check out a haunting. Neither one brought up last night's conversation and, as far as Dean knew, Sam was still unaware of his almost nightly trips to the car. Sometimes he just needed to be completely alone and listen to music to relax and clear his head.

"So we're doing a simple haunted house?" Dean asked as he drove west on a back road a little while later.

"What? You're too good for a haunting now?" Sam joked.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"It's a job and we're close by. Why not handle it?"

"I didn't say we shouldn't handle it. What grabbed your attention?"

"It's a job and we're close by." Sam said again.

Dean nodded. "Got any more details for me?"

All Sam told Dean when he'd come out of the shower earlier was that he'd found an interesting story about an alleged haunted house in a town about eighty miles away and wanted to check it out. That was good enough for Dean, so they packed up and got into the car.

"Young family bought a hundred year old house that no one had lived in for over ten years. Back then, it was all Amityville. Another young family ignored the rumors; they lived in the house only to be terrorized by something. They moved out and they house stayed empty until these people moved in."

"What were the rumors the others ignored?"

"Stories that the house was haunted." Sam said as if it was obvious.

"And you got all this from one newspaper story?"

"No." Sam sounded offended. "I know how to find information."

Dean smiled to himself. He liked it being this way with Sam; easy and comfortable. He could certainly do without the pain and the serious conversations.

"So what else did you find out, Sherlock?"

"I searched county records as far back as I could. The house hasn't been occupied for more than a couple of years at a time in the last thirty."

"How long have there been rumors about it being haunted?"

"I found some other news stories from the last few years. I also found a local paranormal site that has information about it. According to that site, the house has been haunted for about fifty years."

"Owners?"

"At that time the owners were a James and Amanda Perry. Allegedly, James hung himself in his study."

"Nice. Why?"

"He made a lot of bad investments and was broke. He also found out Amanda was sleeping with someone else."

"So this guy is our ghost?"

Sam shrugged. "Makes sense."

"Any idea where he's buried?"

"Not for sure, but they were prominent members of the only church in town at the time. He's probably buried there in their cemetery."

"I gotta take shorter showers." Dean muttered.

Sam grinned and put away the laptop, where he'd been reading from the notes he made. He didn't have an Internet connection or he would have continued the research while Dean drove.

oooOOOooo

Dean followed Sam's directions to the house they were in town to investigate. The family that bought it left in the middle of the night less than a week ago, claiming the stories about the haunting were true. They were staying in a hotel and refused to go back to the house for any reason other than to pack up their things.

The house was at the end of a street, the closest neighbors were at least a half mile away.

"We should probably talk to the Davidsons before we go in." Sam said.

"I guess." Dean sounded unsure.

"Dean –"

He pulled away from the curb. "Fine."

oooOOOooo

The family was staying at the Grand Inn. The desk clerk wouldn't give out the room number, but called to find out if the Davidsons would agree to talk to the brothers. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the hotel's coffee shop with Carolyn Davidson.

"My husband is at work." she explained again. "He's an accountant and all the news has been hard on him. He's lost clients already. Do you really believe us? About the house?"

The brothers exchanged a look.

"The stories I read are interesting." Sam said carefully. "And, well, we've investigated this kind of thing before."

"No one is going to buy the house with all the bad publicity. And the old stories about it being haunted are floating around again because of us. We never should have talked to that reporter." Carolyn said, wrapping both hands around the oversized coffee cup.

"Tell us what kinds of things would happen in the house." Sam said gently.

"We'd heard the stories, of course. Lee and I both grew up here. Everyone who has been here for any amount of time hears the stories. But the price was right; no one had lived in it for over ten years. We figured the stories were exaggerated." she smiled sadly. "I guess they weren't."

"What did you see in the house?"

"We never saw anything. I mean, we'd see things moved and that kind of thing, but we never saw the ghost." she took a deep breath. "At first it was just noises; creaks and groans. We figured it was just the house settling. Then we'd hear footsteps upstairs when we were downstairs; the kids started hearing things. My daughter, she's three, told us her stuffed animals were floating around her room one night. Sometimes it was almost like the ghost – or whatever – was playing with the kids. But then other things started floating around – and being thrown at us. It was horrible and just got to be too much."

"Did you ever call anyone for help?"

She laughed. "Like a priest or an exorcist?"

"Or a paranormal investigator?" Sam asked, thinking about the website he'd found.

"No. We had no idea where to even start looking for someone to help us." she looked from one brother to the other. "Can you help us?"

"Yes." Sam said confidently.

"Can we go look around the house?" Dean asked.

"Yes, of course." she said. "My keys are upstairs. I'll go get them and I'll be right back."

Sam nodded as she stood up.

"This is pretty Amityville." Dean said once she was gone, using Sam's phrase from before.

"Classic haunting. James is pissed off about losing his money and his wife was messing around on him. We'll find him, burn the bones and life goes back to normal for the Davidsons."

Dean looked at his brother. There was something almost wistful in his tone.

"Sam?"

He shook his head and took a sip of coffee.

oooOOOooo

After leaving Mrs. Davidson, Dean dropped Sam off at City Hall where he hoped to get more information about the Perrys. Death certificates were public record in the county, but since it happened so long ago, it might take some searching to find. The library was also within walking distance. While Sam concentrated on research, Dean drove to the house. He parked in the driveway and examined the structure from outside before using the key Mrs. Davidson provided.

He had an uncomfortable feeling that the woman wasn't being completely honest with them, but it was nothing more than suspicion. Something seemed off in her answer about not knowing were to find help, but Dean had to remember that most people were completely clueless when it came to the supernatural and had no idea where to start to look for real information. He also had to remember that not everyone was as adept at research in general as his brother.

Dean thought back to Sam's tone when Mrs. Davidson left the coffee shop to get her keys. His mood had suddenly shifted, but he completely blew it off and there had been no way to get him to talk about it. He was still sullen when Dean dropped him off at City Hall. Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the low beeping of the EMF monitor he was carrying. He hadn't expected to get any readings during the day.

"Well, well." he muttered. He was in a downstairs hallway, just outside a room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and plush-looking chairs. Most of the shelves were empty and upon closer inspection, the chairs were old and worn. He decided this must have been the study where James hung himself. Mrs. Davidson had mentioned that many of the rooms were at least partially furnished when they bought the house and that their intention was to completely restore everything inside so they'd discarded only the most damaged pieces.

Dean walked around the room slowly, the EMF reader continually showing signs of activity. He heard something behind him and turned just a moment too late to avoid being hit by a magazine that had been on a side table.

"That was pretty lame." he said aloud, bending to retrieve the magazine. It was a recent issue of a financial publication with Mr. Davidson's name on the address label. Dean tossed it back onto the table. It wasn't impossible for spirits to be active during the day, but it was definitely unusual and he wondered what it meant. Was the ghost particularly strong or just particularly angry?

Dean reached for the pistol he'd loaded with rock salt and tucked into the waistband of his jeans. After a few minutes, he heard rattling and saw a few small items being moved on tables and the bookshelves around him. The EMF monitor reacted just before a series of books flew at him from across the room. He avoided all but the first and rubbed the back of his head as he walked into the hallway.

"You're not being very hospitable." Dean said. He looked back into the room and saw the books floating back to their places on the shelves. "But you're neat."

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Hard Fight**

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just like to bring them to my sandbox once in a while.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read the first chapter and thanks for the reviews. It's always fun to find out how you guys feel about a story; you make it all worthwhile! This is a pretty short story; I'm hoping to come up with an idea for something a little longer soon.

oooOOOooo

**Chapter 2**

"Hey.' Sam answered his cell phone. "Where are you?"

"On my way to you. Our spirit was pretty active. Did you find out where he's buried?"

"Yeah, the church cemetery like I thought. It was active? Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just got beaned by a book."

"Maybe the spirit was trying to tell you to read more." Sam joked.

"Very funny. How about I pick you up and we get something to eat? We can take care of Mr. Perry's bones tonight."

"Sure. I'll meet you outside the library."

oooOOOooo

Before finding dinner, the brothers rented a motel room and went to the cemetery to look for James Perry's grave. Sam hadn't been able to pinpoint the location exactly, but the cemetery wasn't that big and it didn't take long to find his headstone.

"Where's his wife?" Dean asked, noticing only a single marker.

"She was having an affair." Sam pointed out.

"Did you investigate her?"

"Of course I did." Sam said, offended. "She died four years later; never remarried."

"Is she buried here, too?"

"You know, if you're going to be critical of my research, why don't you try to do it for a change?" Sam sounded serious, but there was a playful glint in his eye.

"Oh come on, Sammy. I'm not criticizing; I'm encouraging you to do better." Dean grinned.

"Bite me."

"I'll pass." Dean surveyed the area. "Looks like we can drive just about all the way to the grave. That will make getting out of here easy. And it's pretty secluded, so we probably won't be seen when we come back."

"So we'll swoop in, dig him up, set him on fire and be on our way." Sam said. "On to the next one."

Dean looked at him, not sure how to read him but wondering how his mood darkened so quickly.

oooOOOooo

They stopped at a restaurant on their way back to the motel. Sam slipped into a booth across from his brother, slouching as much as he could. Dean ordered coffee and was surprised when Sam asked for a beer. He ordered a burger, but only picked at it as he finished off two more drinks.

"You're hitting it pretty hard." Dean said, hoping his tone was neutral.

Sam said nothing.

"What happened at the cemetery?"

"What do you mean?"

"One second you were joking, the next --?"

Sam shrugged and looked into his beer. A moment later he sighed. "I guess sometimes I forget and when I remember –"

Dean leaned forward. "You're not going to turn evil, Sam."

He looked sad. "You don't know that, Dean. You don't know what power the demon has –"

"I know what power you have." Dean said. "Sam, you don't have an evil bone in your body."

"You're scared. You said so yourself."

"Don't throw my words back at me when I'm being encouraging." Dean smiled, but Sam didn't react.

"I don't want to talk about this, okay?" Sam said a moment later. "Let's just finish up here and go back to the motel room. We have a long night ahead of us."

"You need to eat something." Dean said, leaning back in the booth. "You haven't eaten anything all day and you've been drinking –"

"I've seen you drink more than three beers and function just fine."

"Yeah, well, you've also seen me eat when I'm drinking. You said it yourself, Sam, we have a long night ahead of us." Dean grabbed a French fry from Sam's plate.

Sam knew what Dean said was true. He wasn't hungry, but he managed to force down half the burger before he gave up.

Dean would have preferred he eat more, but he couldn't make Sam do anything he didn't want to do. And if he was really upset enough not to be hungry, making him eat might cause him to become sick and that was the last thing they needed.

oooOOOooo

Dean was surprised when Sam fell asleep in their room. He wondered if he'd been sleeping all right at night and was annoyed with himself for not knowing. He realized the sleep could have been brought on by the beer. Sam was bigger than him, but not used to drinking. He felt restless, so Dean booted up the laptop to go over Sam's notes again.

He found the file without a problem, but also came across something else; an entire directory that was password protected. He tried a series of obvious passwords, code words they both knew, but none of them worked. Sam could have hidden it somewhere that Dean never would have seen it; his knowledge of computers was extensive and Dean never would have thought to look for hidden files. That made Dean think that Sam wanted him to access the files.

"What are you up to, Sammy?" Dean whispered as he tried a few more password possibilities. Still having no luck, he turned his attention back to his brother's notes on the job they were working. He'd deal with the protected files later.

Sam told him that Amanda Perry had died four years after her husband. He found a copy of the death certificate, but he hadn't noted where she was buried. Dean wasn't entirely sure that was relevant. It made sense that James was their ghost; he'd hung himself in a state of despair, which was the classic ingredient for an angry spirit. He rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. It might not be relevant, but it wasn't something Sam would normally have missed.

He looked over at his brother. He was still sleeping, on top of the blankets, and appeared to be peaceful. After reading the rest of the notes again, Dean kicked off his shoes and lay down on his own bed. He reached over to set the bedside alarm and watched Sam until he fell asleep.

oooOOOooo

Sam heard an unfamiliar noise and opened his eyes. It took him a moment to figure out where he was and once he did, and realized the noise he heard was an alarm clock, he sat up. Silencing the buzz, he noticed Dean's bed was empty. He looked toward the bathroom. The door was open.

"Dean?" he called.

There was only silence.

He got out of bed and looked into the parking lot. The Impala was where they'd left it. He was in the bathroom when he heard the door open.

"Hey, where'd you go?" Sam asked, coming back into the room.

"I tried to sleep, but couldn't. I thought I'd get us some coffee." Dean decided to ignore the somewhat despondent tone to Sam's voice.

"You want to head out now?" Sam said. "It's late; no one will be at the cemetery."

"Okay." Dean watched quietly as Sam took a few sips of the coffee. "You all right?"

"Sure. Just a little groggy. I just woke up."

Dean nodded. A few minutes later, they were on their way to the cemetery.

oooOOOooo

They'd dug up graves before and knew how to work together quickly and quietly. After breaking into the coffin, Sam salted the bones while Dean doused it in lighter fluid. He pulled a book of matches from his jacket pocket and tossed a lit one into the coffin. They stood side by side, watching the bones burn until the flames were extinguished.

After leaving the cemetery, Dean drove to the house to see if there was any sign of ghost activity. He held the EMF monitor as they walked through the house. Everything seemed quiet, but Dean was uneasy.

"The EMF doesn't register anything." Sam pointed out after Dean voiced his concern.

"I know." he looked around the study uncertainly.

Sam put his hands on his hips. "What do you want to do?"

"Find out where the missus is buried and waste her, too."

"What? Why?"

"How did she die?" Dean asked.

Sam looked uncertain.

"I didn't see it in your notes." Dean said. "You said you found the death certificate, but you didn't say what the cause of death was."

"You were on the laptop?"

"Yeah." Dean said, moving around the room again. "You said you researched her. How did she die?"

"I don't know." he admitted.

Dean looked at him.

Sam followed him into the hallway, almost glaring at the EMF monitor when it started to make noise.

"There's something else here." Dean said.

"Mrs. Perry?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged.

"So we need to find where she's buried."

"Looks like."

"Let's get back to the motel."

Dean nodded and followed him out of the house. It was unlike Sam to not completely research something and have all the answers at the tip of his tongue. On the other hand, they thought they'd found the ghost, so there hadn't been an obvious reason to go any further.

oooOOOooo

It was nearly two in the morning when the brothers walked into the motel room and Dean was exhausted. Even if Sam found out where the body was buried immediately, they didn't have enough time to dig up the grave and burn the bones. He stretched out on his bed while Sam booted up the computer.

"Why don't you get cleaned up and go to bed?" Sam suggested. "I'll find out where she's buried and we'll hit it again tonight."

Dean grunted.

"I'm sorry, man. I really thought Mr. Perry was the one."

"We both did. I don't think we were wrong; he was there, too."

"How do you know?"

"I think he's the one that hit me with the book. I think it was Mrs. Perry that cleaned up after him."

Sam glanced at him over the laptop screen.

Dean kicked off his shoes. "It's weird they'd be together in the house, though considering she was having an affair."

"Yeah. I guess."

"What?"

"I don't know. Maybe – Huh."

Dean sat up. "Huh?"

"Yeah. You said someone cleaned up the room after you got hit with the book?"

"Uh huh."

"I don't think that was Mrs. Perry."

"No? Who, then?"

"Ramona Hill."

"Who's that?"

"The maid."

"The maid?"

"The maid. It looks like Mrs. Perry isn't the only one who was having an affair."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Sam looked at him.

Dean sighed. "Go on."

"I drilled down a little further in the paranormal website I told you about. It's just a rumor, but some people believed that Mrs. Perry wasn't the only one being unfaithful."

"It's just a regular Peyton Place."

"What do you know about Peyton Place?"

Dean shrugged. "So where do we find this maid?"

"I don't know yet."

Sam continued his research while Dean quickly fell asleep.

oooOOOooo

When Dean woke up, he saw Sam stretched out on his own bed. He could see a sliver of light coming through the slit in the curtains and looked at the clock. It was just after seven thirty. Sam was awake when he came out of the bathroom a few minutes later.

"When did you go to sleep?" Dean asked.

"I don't know; around four maybe. I found the maid."

"Where?"

Sam sat up on the bed, but didn't look at his brother.

"Where, Sam?"

"I'm sorry." he said quietly.

Dean looked confused. "Sorry for what?"

"I missed something pretty big."

Dean sat across from him. Sam sighed before telling Dean what he'd found. "Mrs. Perry fired Ramona after Mr. Perry died. Ramona left town; she may have gone to live with some relatives in Chicago. She was arrested here, four years later, after allegedly killing Mrs. Perry."

"Allegedly?"

"A friend of Mrs. Perry's found her dead one morning; stabbed. Ramona was seen in town a few days before and the police looked into it, but she wasn't arrested. I found a death certificate in Chicago; she killed herself a week after Mrs. Perry died."

"So she's buried in Chicago?"

Sam nodded.

"Mrs. Perry is buried here?"

Sam nodded again.

Dean looked thoughtful. "I suppose all three of them could be in the house. When I was looking around, it's almost like someone was moving stuff and someone was throwing stuff. Maybe that was the Perrys and the maid was the one who cleaned up."

"Talk about being in Hell." Sam said thoughtfully. "A wife haunting a house with her husband and his girlfriend."

"What about the guy Mrs. Perry was having an affair with?" Dean asked.

"There are a lot of rumors about who he might have been, but nothing conclusive."

Dean looked at him.

"I'm sure." Sam said.

"Okay." Dean looked thoughtful. "Let's take care of the wife tonight and then we'll head to Chicago to take care of the maid."

Sam nodded and stifled a yawn.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep? There's nothing we can do until tonight."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm sure I can find something to amuse me. I think I'll go out for a while and let you sleep in peace." Dean gently slapped his brother's leg. "I'll be back."

Sam watched him walk to the door.

"Dean?"

He turned to look at Sam.

"I'm sorry I missed something so big."

"No harm done" Dean said lightly.

oooOOOooo

After grabbing a quick breakfast and wandering around for a while, Dean went to the Grand Inn to speak with Mrs. Davidson again. Without providing a lot of detail, he told her what they'd found and how they were taking care of the problem.

"It's hard to believe this is all real." she said.

Dean only nodded.

"And this is what you do? You get rid of spirits?"

"Yeah."

"How do people find you?"

"Word of mouth. Or we find people who need our help."

"Are there more of you?"

Dean paused, thinking of the network that they'd known nothing about until a few months ago. "Yeah, there are."

She nodded. "That's good."

"Did you really not try to find help before?" Dean asked.

"We talked about it, but didn't know where to start. We're not religious people and my husband felt odd about going to the priest at the Catholic church. I'd looked for some information on the Internet and found a site for an organization in the state that investigates paranormal activity, but—" she shrugged. "I guess it was just all too unbelievable to even consider it being true. I'm just glad you found us. Letting go of that house would have ruined us financially."

"You said your husband had already lost client—"

"He has. But we're not giving any follow-up interviews to any reporters. It's a small town, but hopefully it will all blow over. Especially if we're able to move back into the house."

"You will be." Dean assured her. "Just give us a few more days."

oooOOOooo

Dean left Mrs. Davidson and wanted to go back to the room to try to open the computer files that Sam password protected. It bothered him that his brother would be hiding things from him, but it further bothered him that he was hiding them right where Dean would find them. If Sam really wanted the files to remain private, he'd have done a better job. On the other hand, his normally thorough research hadn't been quite up to par for this case.

Sitting behind the wheel of his car, Dean was thoughtful. He tried to stay in big brother mode, but his thoughts went to his father's warning about Sam and he felt his resolve breaking down. He couldn't imagine something being able to make Sam anything other than what he was – a good and caring person. But what if John's fears came true and Dean couldn't save him? Would he be able to kill his brother; the one person that meant more to him than anyone else? How could he live with himself if he ended Sam's life? How would he live with himself if he didn't?

Dean looked at the bruise on his hand and laid his head back against the seat. How could John saddle him with this responsibility? He'd done everything the man ever asked of him, but this was just too much for him to handle alone.

Sam was awake when Dean walked into the room.

oooOOOooo

They went back to the cemetery again that night. While out wandering, Dean found that Mrs. Perry was buried in the same place as her husband, but in her family's plot rather than with him. After revealing the coffin, the brothers reenacted what they'd done the previous night.

Back in the room, they cleaned up before hitting the road. It was a long way to Chicago and they wanted to put distance between themselves and another grave desecration. The cemetery wasn't used any more and they'd tried to put everything back as close to how they found it as possible, but it was usually a good idea to get out of town after a job. Once they'd dealt with the maid's body in Illinois, they would let the Davidsons know and hopefully they would be able to return to their home without further problems.

The brothers intentionally kept the conversation between them light. Neither one wanted to talk about the possibility of Sam turning evil, nor what the demon's real plans might be. Dean didn't bring up the computer files and really just wanted to keep things easy with Sam. They could deal with the big stuff later.

Sam fell asleep in the car and was able to get a few hours of rest. He woke up when Dean pulled into a fast food drive through. After eating, they switched places in the car and Dean was able to sleep until they reached the outskirts of Chicago.

Neither one of them mentioned it, but they both remembered that it was in Chicago where they saw their father for the first time after his disappearance. It was also the place where they had to let him go again.

Once they'd finished burning the maid's bones, they fell into bed at the motel they'd stopped at earlier. The one good thing about working a job in a big city, it was easier to hide.

They slept for several hours, then spent some time at a nearby bar. While Sam watched his back, Dean hustled pool and tried to relax. He kept his mind on the game, but kept thinking about the protected files on the laptop. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what his brother was hiding, but he thought he needed to know.

oooOOOooo

While waiting for Dean to recover from his night of pool and beer, Sam called Mrs. Davidson to tell her it should be safe to go back to the house. He also left a number with her in case something else happened and her family needed their help again.

Dean woke up the next morning to an empty room, but Sam left a note saying he'd gone out for a walk and food. He showered and dressed, then booted up the computer to try a few more ideas to access the files Sam had protected.

"Well." he said to himself when his efforts succeeded. There were several files in the directory and he quickly looked through everything. Some of what he saw was electronic copies of information they already had about the demon, either provided by their father or by Ash. The last file Dean opened almost hit him square in the stomach. It was a journal with entries dated over the last few months. He briefly wondered if Sam had just been sloppy or had actually wanted Dean to find this. Feeling a little guilty, he started to read. He'd gotten to the end of the document when he started to feel cold.

_Sometimes I feel it; something not me. I get angry and I just want to react. Most people probably feel that way sometimes, but it feels foreign to me, like it's not a part of me. _

_Dean is scared; I know he is. He's afraid he won't be able to protect me and will be faced with having to kill me. I don't want to live if the unthinkable happens. I don't want to hurt people, to cause pain. He's got to understand that if it comes down to that, he'd be doing me a favor by killing me. _

_He shouldn't have to protect me. I'm an adult now, but he'll probably never see me that way. At least, not completely. Dad instilled in him this almost rabid need to always be the one in charge, the protector. He shouldn't have done that; Dean's never going to be able to let go and be his own person. I guess Dad had his reasons – not that he'd ever share them with us. I don't understand the secrecy and with him gone, I'll never understand it._

_I miss him. I miss him more than I thought possible. The hole is still there and it still hurts every day. I can only imagine what it must be like for Dean. He idolized the man and tried to be the perfect son. We've talked a little about how he feels about Dad doing what he did – we still don't know exactly what happened, but Dad's dead and Dean is alive. He was as good as dead and now he's here, with me. I can't thank Dad enough for that, but it's wearing on my brother. I don't know what to say to him about it; I don't know how to help him. Not that he'd let me anyway._

_I don't want this to happen. I'll fight it, and God knows Dean will, too. But if we fail, I know I can trust Dean to do the right thing. I just hope he can live with it._

Dean looked up when he heard a key in the door. He quickly closed the file and opened the solitaire game, but his eyes betrayed him. Sam knew, as soon as he saw his brother, that he'd been reading his journal. He felt almost weak with relief.

Neither one knew what to do; what to say. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed closest to his brother. Dean turned toward him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Sam broke the silence after several minutes.

"You read it?"

Dean nodded.

"Good."

"You wanted me to." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. I just didn't know how to tell you that stuff."

"You can tell me anything."

"Not always. Sometimes you won't hear it."

Dean nodded and smiled sadly. "You're right."

"I'm going to fight." Sam said.

"I know you are."

"And you'll be right beside me."

"Damn straight."

"But if that doesn't work –"

Dean turned, blinking away tears.

"You'll do it, won't you Dean?" Sam asked quietly after several minutes of silence.

Dean looked at him with tears in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you, Sammy."

Sam leaned forward, mirroring his brother's position. "I know you would. So that's why I have to ask you to do something else."

"Sam –" Dean whispered.

"If you end up having to kill me – " he paused when he saw Dean wince. "If you have to do it, you have to be okay."

"How am I supposed to be okay if –"

"You just have to be."

Dean looked at him sadly. "I can't promise that, Sammy. You're asking too much."

"You said you'd do anything for me."

"That's not fair." he whispered.

"Nothing about this is fair. If Dad was right and you can't save me – what the hell is fair about that? What did I do to deserve becoming evil? What did either of us do to deserve losing Mom? Everything about this sucks, Dean, but I need to know that you'll be okay. That's all that matters to me."

"Yeah, well, you're all that matters to me, so you're not going dark side."

"But if I do –"

"I'll work on it." Dean said after a moment. "That's the best I can promise right now."

Sam nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Fight hard, Sammy." Dean said as he put his hand on the back of his brother's neck and pulled him forward.

"Damn straight." the younger man grinned.

"Damn straight." Dean agreed.

_Fin_


End file.
